


Six

by JuliaJekyll



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adorable, Anniversary, Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Kissing, Love, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension, Surprised John, Sweet, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6547429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaJekyll/pseuds/JuliaJekyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has big plans for his sixth anniversary with John. Dangerous amounts of fluff are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted a new work, and I'm definitely excited about this one. I still adore Johnlock as much as I ever did, of course, and this is my newest contribution to the insanely fluffy, angst-free section of the fandom. Do enjoy, dear readers, and don't forget to leave a comment and/or kudos! 
> 
> -Julia

“Six,” Sherlock sighed, looking at John across the table. His partner was wearing an olive green jumper, poring over a newspaper, and sipping from a mug of tea with honey—John had taken to honey quite a bit of late. The scene was domestically beautiful—not boring, as Sherlock had always imagined domesticity to be before John—but precious, almost sacred. A sign of devotion, of life together, of love. 

“Six,” Sherlock repeated, on a bit of a dramatic sigh, irritated at John's apparent lack of attention. “Six! I can't bloody believe it.” 

“Yes,” John said, stirring his tea without looking up, “more than five, less than seven. Six. Not sure why that number is so fascinating to you.” 

“It's our anniversary, John!” 

“Yes, I know. Our sixth. None of the others interested you this much. Why six?” 

“More than half a decade, John! Moving into the second half of a bloody decade! How do you not see the significance in that?”

At that, John raised his eyes, and his gaze softened. “I do, Sherlock,” he replied, reaching across the table to cover his lover's hand with his. “It marks another year with the man I love more than anything. That's the most important thing of all to me.” 

Sherlock gave a playful eye roll. “So sentimental.” 

“You're the one moaning 'six' like it's a damned mantra.” 

“I love you, John.” 

A slow smile lifted the corners of John's mouth. Even after six years together, Sherlock noted, those three words could still put that same expression on his boyfriend's face: sweet, gentle gladness, with a touch of incredulity, as if six anniversaries still hadn't completely erased his amazement that he and Sherlock had fallen in love. 

John stood up, laying his newspaper aside, and came to the other side of the table to drop a kiss on the top of Sherlock's head. “I love you too, you beautiful man.” 

“Don't leave me, then,” Sherlock groused. “I'll be so terribly _bored_ without you.” 

“You'll manage, love,” John said, pulling on his jacket to go to work at the surgery. “Tonight I'll come home and we'll celebrate together,” he promised, leaning over to tie his shoes. 

Sherlock rose from the table and came over to stand opposite his boyfriend. When John finished with his shoes and straightened up, Sherlock latched onto his neck with both hands and pulled him close, kissing him soundly on the lips. John's hands came up to rest on Sherlock's elbows as he kissed back. Sherlock tried very hard to show every feeling in his heart with that kiss: concentrating fully on the feeling of his lips moving against John's, holding John as tightly against him as he could, the way he hoped to forever. 

They did, admittedly, get a bit carried away: after a couple of moments, Sherlock wrapped both arms around John and pulled him forcefully in, and John bit down lightly on Sherlock's lower lip, which led to an escalation of their passion and subsequently both of them getting half-hard against each other before John broke away. 

“Later,” he said with a smile, only slightly out of breath. “That I promise.” 

“Oh, do paint a picture for me,” Sherlock groaned, trying to get at John's neck with his lips while John held him back. “I've got to spend _hours_ here without you; at least give me some lurid mental image to masturbate to.” 

John laughed. “I'm sure you've got plenty of images of your own stored away in that bloody mind palace of yours.” 

“I like yours better.” 

John sighed, then relented, leaning over to whisper in Sherlock's ear: “I'm going to kiss you senseless, from your lips to your neck to your chest. I'll suck that gorgeous skin until I leave marks, because you're mine, and I can. I'll move down lower-” he kissed just behind Sherlock's ear, making him shiver, “-and lower-” here he kissed the junction of Sherlock's neck and jaw, “-and lower...” he kissed Sherlock's neck, long and lingering, then pulled abruptly away. “Well, I don't want to give too much away.” 

Sherlock's jaw dropped, and John laughed. “But I think,” he said, giving Sherlock a final peck on the cheek, “I've given you enough clues that you'll be able to deduce the next step.” He kissed Sherlock's lips in a farewell gesture. “Goodbye, love! Until later!” he said, and left the flat. 

Sherlock sighed in frustration. Just like John to turn him on and then leave him wanting. He resisted the urge to palm himself. There was work to be done, after all. He had to get about preparing John's anniversary gift.

* * *

 

“It's just chemistry,” Sherlock muttered under his breath, checking the consistency of his spun sugar for the umpteenth time. It was a rich brown color, but still not quite thick enough. 

Sherlock swore quietly. “Just chemistry,” he grumbled again, using the very tip of his index finger to pick up a tiny bit of the sugar mixture, bring it to his lips, and taste it. Good, but he'd have to re-balance the flavor if he was going to thicken the stuff again. 

Frustrated, he put the pan down and crossed to the oven, where he switched on the inside light and peered at the cake within. At least that was rising nicely. 

With a huff, he returned his attention to the less-cooperative sugar. 

It was just chemistry. He'd figure it out. 

Then again, love was just chemistry too, and he still didn't fully understand that.

* * *

 

John came home several minutes early, which pleased Sherlock immensely. He'd been banking on it, due to the fact that it was their anniversary (their sixth!!) and John, being the emotional ball of sentiment that he was, would want to spend as much of the evening with Sherlock as he could. The thought of that sentiment seemed to warm Sherlock's body in a way he'd never have thought possible several years before. It was nigh-unbelievable how thoroughly John had changed his life. 

He gave John a hearty kiss at the door before his boyfriend had so much as taken his jacket off, which made John laugh against his lips, a sensation that made Sherlock feel even warmer, from his mouth down to his feet. 

“Welcome home, my love,” he said sincerely, which made John blink with surprise. 

“God, Sherlock, you're bloody adorable today,” he said, kissing Sherlock again. “I missed you.” He paused, breaking his mouth away from Sherlock's and sniffed the air. “It smells amazing in here.” 

“Right, well.” Sherlock cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. He felt fairly confident that his desserts had turned out well, but there was no way to be sure until John tasted them. 

John stood with his eyebrows raised, patiently waiting to hear what Sherlock would say next. They laid their hands on each other's arms together, moving into the flat in a gentle embrace, as Sherlock closed the door behind them with his foot. 

“John,” Sherlock said, taking a step back, eyes locked on John's expectant face, “as you may or may not be aware, the sixth anniversary is traditionally the sugar anniversary.” 

“I-er.” John licked his lips. “I wasn't aware.” 

“Well, I did a bit of research into the matter, and it turns out that it is, in fact, true” Sherlock said. “So you see, I made cake.” He took John's hand and led him into the kitchen, where the Battenberg cake he'd so painstakingly baked sat on the table. 

John's mouth fell open. “Sherlock, I-” 

“There's more,” Sherlock interrupted. “Well, a bit more.” He slid his hands around both of John's, then raised them to his lips and kissed them both. “John, I love you.” 

John laughed out loud, a joyful sound. “God, Sherlock, I love you too.” 

“Well, I also tried my hand at making, er, spun sugar.” 

“Really?” John looked surprised, as well he might. “I've heard that's not easy.” 

“It wasn't,” Sherlock confirmed, gently leading John to the back of the kitchen, “But, well. It'll all have been worth it, if you'll say yes.”   
He shifted aside, and John's jaw dropped anew. 

On the small back table in their kitchen lay a large platter. Painted on the platter, in clumsy but legible spun sugar, were the words “Will You Marry Me?” 

John stood, flabbergasted, before the platter for a full ten seconds before he said “Sherlock...” 

Slowly, Sherlock reached behind the platter and grabbed a slender pastry stick he'd carefully measured. Wound around it was a strand of spun sugar. Gingerly, Sherlock slid it off. 

“I love you, John Watson,” he said again, taking John's left hand and carefully sliding the strand of sugar over his knuckle. “I love you, and I want you with me until the end of our days. Until the end of everything. You've given me six years of the affection and love I always thought I didn't want, and before that, you gave me the first real friendship I've ever had. You're the most beautiful man in the entire world, and I'm selfish, and I want you to be mine and only mine forever. I want it to be real. Will you marry me?” 

There were tears in John's eyes. Real tears. Sherlock had the brief sliver of a thought that there might be tears in his own eyes as well, but he was too busy focusing on John to care, waiting for his reply. 

“Oh, _Sherlock_ ,” John said, and Sherlock felt that familiar warmth once again at the sound of his name spoken by that beloved voice. “Yes, yes, of course I'll marry you. Of course, of course, _yes_ , of course.” 

He grabbed Sherlock's neck and pulled him into a crushing kiss, which Sherlock eagerly returned, his arms wrapping around his lover and new fiance. This was a kiss on a whole new level; the level of two people who had just committed their lives to each other. They held each other so tightly and closely that there wasn't a millimeter of space between them, as if they simply couldn't get close enough, and kissed with tongues and lips until they broke, panting, apart, staring into each other's eyes and still not letting go. 

Sherlock smiled down at John. “I'd like to take this opportunity to assure you that there is a real ring,” he said, almost shyly. “The thing is, it's, er...” he glanced toward the table. “It's in the cake.” He swallowed awkwardly. "I thought it'd be romantic that way." 

John looked at him for a moment, awash in bliss, then burst out laughing. The ring could have been buried at the bottom of Mycroft's sock drawer as far as he was concerned; it wouldn't have dampened his joy one iota. “Well, let's start eating, then” he said, giving Sherlock one more quick kiss on the lips. “I want to be able to show the world you're mine as soon as possible.” 

Sherlock squeezed John's hand, then went to grab a knife to cut the cake. “Happy Anniversary, John,” he said. 

John smiled. “Happy Anniversary, Sherlock. I expect we'll have to start a new string of anniversaries after this one, though.” As Sherlock sliced into the cake, John leaned over and kissed his cheek. “After all,” he added, “I certainly don't intend to spend another full year not married to you.”


End file.
